Blog: Staff Reflections
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November 13, 2018
Posted by Thomas Becker
On October 12th, students from the International Human Rights Clinic arrived at the Villa Ingenio Cemetery on the outskirts of El Alto, Bolivia to celebrate the lives of those killed in Bolivia’s “Black October.” Despite the somberness of the drizzly afternoon, the cemetery was adorned with the bright colors of the family members’ aguayos (blankets) and polleras (traditional billowy skirts worn by Bolivia’s Aymara women). Today was a special occasion.
Téofilo Baltazar was one of the family members present at the cemetery. Fifteen years ago to the day, Bolivian soldiers shot and killed his pregnant wife Teodosia while she was praying inside her sister’s home. As Téofilo placed flowers on his wife’s tomb, he stated, “Hasta el último momento lucharé por la justicia.” (“Until the last moment, I will fight for justice.”)
Téofilo, like so many relatives of the roughly 500 casualties during Black October, is Aymara. Historically, the country’s indigenous people have been excluded from justice, but Téofilo and his friends were determined to change this.
In 2007, nine Aymara Bolivians launched a landmark lawsuit in U.S. federal court against Bolivia’s ex-President Gonzalo “Goni” Sánchez de Lozada and ex-Defense Minister Carlos Sánchez Berzaín, who fled to the United States after Black October and have lived here ever since. The case sought to hold both men responsible for the role they played planning and organizing the mass killings that took their family members.
After years of legal obstacles, the lawsuit went to trial in March of this year, marking the first time ever a former of head state was forced to directly face his accusers in a U.S. courtroom. The victims’ family members made history when, after a three-week trial and a week of deliberations, the ten-person jury unanimously held Goni and Sánchez Berzaín liable for the killings and awarded the plaintiffs $10 million. This was the first human rights verdict in the United States against a living head of state.
Unfortunately, in May, a judge overturned the historic jury decision. The judge upheld the defendants’ Rule 50 Motion for Judgment as a Matter of Law, which argued that there was insufficient evidence to support the verdict. This decision forced the families back to court.
Last month, as Bolivians celebrated the lives of those killed in Black October, the plaintiffs submitted an appellate brief to the United States Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit arguing that the district court applied the wrong legal standard for extrajudicial killings and the jury verdict should be reinstated. Additionally, current and former U.N. Special Rapporteurs on Extrajudicial, Summary, or Arbitrary Executions, retired U.S. military commanders, and law of war scholars submitted amicus briefs on behalf of the plaintiffs. Early next year, the Defendants will file their opposition brief and Plaintiffs will file their reply; oral argument is expected in spring 2019.
Though the struggle has been long, the families remain steadfast in their fight for justice. It is the memories of their loves ones that keep them going. At the cemetery, Téofilo shared with the Clinic’s students the importance of their victory and its significance for survivors throughout the world. “The jury is the voice of the American people, and the people have spoken. No court can change that. No court can change the message it sends to the world,” he told the students, adding: “But the struggle continues.”
The Clinic and co-counsel from Center for Constitutional Rights, Akin, Gump, Strauss, Hauer & Feld, LLP, and Schonbrun, De Simone, Seplow, Harris & Hoffman, LLP have represented the plaintiffs from the outset in the case. Clinical students Luna Borges Pereira Santos LLM ’19 and Kevin Patumwat JD ’19 traveled with clinical instructor Thomas Becker JD ’08 to Bolivia in October to commemorate 15 years since Black October.
October 26, 2018
We are sad to share the news that James Tamboer, one of the clinic’s clients in the apartheid litigation, passed away this week. Here, several of the attorneys who worked with James on the case, reflect on his life and this loss.
From Judith Chomsky:
James Tamboer critically set the stage for my understanding of the workers’ struggle against apartheid. Like others who came forward in the struggle against apartheid, his courage and steadfast commitment inspired both his comrades and those of us who came to know him working on the apartheid case in U.S. courts. Meeting and learning from James has given meaning to our work and pride in our association with him.
From Susan Farbstein:
James Tamboer died this week, and I don’t have words to adequately describe the loss. How do I explain my love and respect for a man who started out as a client but became a friend, an inspiration, and the source of so much wisdom and kindness. How do I describe my grief that another member of this generation of South Africans—a generation that struggled and fought and persevered and survived—has died, and that with his death we lose another piece of history and another connection to that past.
Representing James was one of the greatest honors of my life. For nearly a decade, we worked together on a case which sought to hold multi-national corporations accountable for their role in supporting and assisting the apartheid government to commit gross human rights violations. James, who was born in 1959, worked at the General Motors plant in Port Elizabeth from 1977 until 1986. As he said, “I started as a laborer and ended as a laborer.” He worked the trim line, fitting together truck parts, including chassis for military vehicles.
Before joining GM James had been politically active in the student movement, although he had never been arrested. He continued his organizing efforts with the union at GM, first as a shop steward and later as a senior shop steward. James worked not only for pay increases but also to break down racial barriers, such as separate toilets and canteens, within the plant.
He paid heavily for this involvement. He recalled 1982 being one of the worst years for him, a year in which he was arrested on a regular basis—including being taken from the GM plant—because he was a vocal and visible union leader. Security branch personnel often came into the plant, and to his mother’s home, to question James about plans for strikes or other political activities.
During intense union negotiations that year, James was detained for three weeks at St. Alban’s, a notorious prison facility where hundreds were often held without charge and subjected to police abuse. He was tortured. He described being beaten over a bench and waterboarded as the security police attempted to extract information from him about the union’s plans.
James was held again for several months in 1985-86, swept up following the government’s declaration of a state of emergency. The security forces, interrogating James about his role organizing a major strike at GM, stomped on his legs and chest. They bashed his head into the walls so forcefully that he would suffer from memory loss and epilepsy for the rest of his life.
But James was so much more than an activist and survivor. He was a husband, a father, and a pastor. He hesitated before joining the apartheid litigation as a plaintiff. He was concerned that if his children knew more about the abuse that he had suffered, they might hate the white people who had mistreated him. And he had spent his life working against hatred, and for equality and reconciliation.
Ultimately he joined the case because he wanted stories like his to be heard and because he hoped for some measure of justice and accountability, or at least acknowledgement, by GM and the other corporations. He was clear-eyed about the immense legal hurdles that we would face, but he believed in the importance of the case.
When I think of James now, my strongest memories are of him laughing—deep and loud and heartily, with his whole body—and of the way that he would lean in close, look you right in the eye, and wag his finger a bit when making an important point. I remember speaking with him after we had suffered a major setback in the case. I was apologetic and also, I’m sure, quite upset. As was his way, James offered reassurance and perspective: “We always knew this would be hard. And we have suffered so much worse.” Of course.
James, I will miss you tremendously. I will be forever grateful for the privilege of working with you and learning from you. And I will honor your memory, in my own small way, by carrying your wisdom and passion for justice with me, and by sharing it with others.
From Tyler Giannini:
When Diana Tamboer emailed me on Monday that her husband, James, had passed that morning, I was physically shaken. Sitting with it, I went to a moment etched in my mind forever; I can see James’ face – it was a conversation that he and I had at a fast-food restaurant near his house. We settled in a corner booth away from others. We sat across from each other, the Formica table top between us, and we talked. We had spoken before about his experiences – the torture at the hands of the Special Branch, the struggles to fight against apartheid. But this conversation was about whether he would be a plaintiff and a class representative in the apartheid litigation pending in New York.
I explained how much of a long shot the litigation was going to be; how many years it would take; how hard it would be; how he would have to talk about experiences that are hard to relive.
He was unphased. James simply said that he lived under apartheid and he knew all too well about the law, about the way legal systems do not lead to justice. He had no illusions about where this might go, and yet he was fully on board for the years of struggle that were ahead.
And then he said to me he wanted to do this because he had never told his children what had happened to him. He wanted them to know – not just so that they would know, but because he wanted to break the cycle of violence and hatred that defined apartheid.
No more needs to be said about James. I will miss him. And I will forever remember him and his strength, his wisdom, and his humanity.
July 3, 2018
Posted by Dana Walters
Debbie Frempong’s time at the International Human Rights Clinic was short – she was here for just 10 months – but during that time she made her mark on the Clinic through her kindness, empathy, and humor.
Debbie, the Clinic assistant, and I, the Program assistant, started our positions at the Law School just a week apart from each other. Throughout her time here, our desks faced one another, and I always knew I could peek over my computer and see her there. We shared laughter with each other just as often as we shared work. I’ll miss her, as we all will, but I’m excited to see what she does next.
Having joined us from the Harvard Divinity School where she received a Masters in Religion, Politics, and Ethics, Debbie is departing the Clinic to further her graduate work at Brown University. There, she’s pursuing a Ph.D. in anthropology, specifically researching identity formation among Ghanaian Christian women using postcolonial theory and a transnational racialized framework. There’s no doubt that Debbie’s work will be invaluable to the field, but more so, she’ll be an asset to any future students she encounters in what will be a remarkable academic career. As a critical and passionate thinker, she’s the kind of teacher we’d all be lucky to have.
At the Clinic, Debbie was the sounding board for so many student concerns. She always treated students and visitors with compassion and respect, even when she was knee-deep in organizing classes, events, and conferences. She cared deeply about social justice: an important factor in all of the Clinic’s hiring decisions. At work and outside of it, she was a natural community builder. Having grown up in Ghana and come to the U.S. for school, she volunteered her spare time with an organization that made sure other African expats and immigrants felt welcome in the Boston area.
A few months into her tenure, we discovered something else about Debbie: she’s a virtuoso singer. As her videos became increasingly popular, singing seemed to be but one way of building bridges in the easy way she does. Her powerful voice — in singing, writing, and speaking up for injustice — , her keen listening skills, and her attention to making sure others were heard are but some of the ways Debbie has contributed so much to the Clinic and to our lives. The good news is she’ll be only a short train ride away. That, or a YouTube click.
May 18, 2018
Posted by Susan Farbstein
This post is tough to write: Cara Solomon, our Communications Manager, is leaving HRP. Having endured eight years in an office full of lawyers, she is following her passion to focus full-time on Everyday Boston, the nonprofit that she founded to build community across the city and break down stereotypes through storytelling. So we’re losing a dear colleague and friend. And we’re left to write this tribute without her invaluable editorial input.
It comes as no surprise that this is her next step. Cara, who joined us following a career as a print journalist, is a storyteller at heart. She loves nothing more than speaking with interesting people—asking insightful questions and digging deep to understand who they are and what drives them—and then turning that raw material into a beautifully reported piece. From articles about the bonds that form between clinical students, to profiles of clinical instructors and their work, to in-depth features on clinical projects and victories, Cara captures the story.
Her writing resonates not simply because she cares about the issues, but because she connects with people and puts them at the center of her work. During a break in the Mamani trial in March, I watched Cara sit outside the courtroom with Gonzalo Mamani Aguilar, one of the plaintiffs. Cara speaks no Spanish, and Gonzalo no English. Yet somehow they were deep in conversation—smiling, laughing, gesticulating, commiserating. This is just her way.
In addition to being a gifted storyteller, Cara has also proven herself to be a natural teacher. She taught us all to be better writers—how to find our voices, show rather than tell, shrug off the constraints of legal writing to speak to a broader audience—and then she tirelessly revised, edited, and reworked our pieces until they met her exacting standards.
She did this not only for those of us who work in the Clinic but also for our students, teaching clinical teams how to frame advocacy messages and talking points, to write blogs and op-eds, and to pitch ideas to journalists. In the classroom, Cara developed and taught modules on media advocacy and storytelling, dissecting op-eds and advocacy plans drafted by students and providing incisive feedback and suggestions.
Cara always called it like she saw it. Over the years, many students and staff turned to her as a listening ear to celebrate achievements, exchange frustrations, or seek advice. She looked out for them, checked in on people, reminded us all to take better care of ourselves. She had a keen eye for injustice and the need to break down hierarchies, including within the law school itself.
Thank you, Cara, for making us better writers, but more importantly for your kindness and friendship. We will miss you tremendously but know that your creativity, collaborative spirit, and curiosity will be put to good use at Everyday Boston. We’re excited to see the impact that you, and Everyday Boston, are already having on the community—and we wish you every success!
April 16, 2018
This piece by Bonnie Docherty, Associate Director of Armed Conflict and Civilian Protection, originally ran in The Guardian, under the headline “We’re Running Out of Time to Stop Killer Robots”
It’s five years this month since the launch of the Campaign to Stop Killer Robots, a global coalition of non-governmental groups calling for a ban on fully autonomous weapons. This month also marks the fifth time that countries have convened at the United Nations in Geneva to address the problems these weapons would pose if they were developed and put into use.
The countries meeting in Geneva this week are party to a major disarmament treaty called the Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons. While some diplomatic progress has been made under that treaty’s auspices since 2013, the pace needs to pick up dramatically. Countries that recognise the dangers of fully autonomous weapons cannot wait another five years if they are to prevent the weapons from becoming a reality.
Fully autonomous weapons, which would select and engage targets without meaningful human control, do not yet exist, but scientists have warned they soon could. Precursors have already been developed or deployed as autonomy has become increasingly common on the battlefield. Hi-tech military powers, including China, Israel, Russia, South Korea, the UK and the US, have invested heavily in the development of autonomous weapons. So far there is no specific international law to halt this trend.
Experts have sounded the alarm, emphasising that fully autonomous weapons raise a host of concerns. For many people, allowing machines that cannot appreciate the value of human life to make life-and-death decisions crosses a moral red line.
Legally, the so-called “killer robots” would lack human judgment, meaning that it would be very challenging to ensure that their decisions complied with international humanitarian and human rights law. For example, a robot could not be preprogrammed to assess the proportionality of using force in every situation, and it would find it difficult to judge accurately whether civilian harm outweighed military advantage in each particular instance.
Fully autonomous weapons also raise the question: who would be responsible for attacks that violate these laws if a human did not make the decision to fire on a specific target? In fact, it would be legally difficult and potentially unfair to hold anyone responsible for unforeseeable harm to civilians. Continue Reading…
April 13, 2018
Spotlight Feature: Clinic team help hold Bolivian ex-leaders responsible for killings in historic case
Posted by Cara Solomon
This post originally ran on the Harvard Law Today homepage under the title, “After a decade of tireless fighting, a measure of justice.”
When the verdict came down, most of the litigation team was in the second row of the courtroom, leaning forward, tense with the waiting, trembling at times. But Thomas Becker ’08, was in the front row beside the plaintiffs, his arm around the shoulders of Felicidad Rosa Huanca Quispe, whose father was shot dead in the street all those years ago.
There was no other place for him to be. He had spent the past decade on and off in Bolivia, working in partnership with the plaintiffs–attending victims’ association meetings, tracking down witnesses, investigating leads. They were not only his inspiration. They were also his friends.
When Mamani, et al. v. Sánchez de Lozada and Sánchez Berzaín reached Federal District Court last month, it had already made history: the first time a living former head of state faced his accusers in a human rights case in U.S. court. Now, as the judge read the verdict form, Becker found the words hard to believe.
Had the jury really just found two of the most powerful men in Bolivian history liable for the extrajudicial killings of eight indigenous people–and awarded the plaintiffs $10 million in damages?
With more than 25 witnesses and hundreds of pages of evidence, the case against Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada and Carlos Sánchez Berzaín seemed clear—how they had deployed massive military force to quash protests, leading to scores of civilian deaths. Still, Becker turned around for reassurance from Susan Farbstein ’04 and Tyler Giannini, co-directors of the International Human Rights Clinic (IHRC), which was co-counsel in the litigation from the start.
“Susan was smiling with tears running down her face, and Tyler was nodding in his Zen-like way,” said Becker. “And I knew that after a decade of tireless fighting, the plaintiffs had gotten some form of justice.”
In the summer of 2006, Becker was a rising 2L, living in Bolivia, and immersed in the social justice movement around “Black October,” the military violence that killed more than 50 and injured more than 400 in the fall of 2003.
The fight for accountability was already well underway, and would later lead to the Trial of Responsibilities, which found five members of the Military High Command guilty for their role in the killings. But the men who had unleashed the military on civilians—Sánchez de Lozada and Sánchez Berzaín—had fled to the United States in the aftermath of the violence, and lived there ever since.
At some point, Becker remembered something he’d learned about in his 1L year. It was called the Alien Tort Statute (ATS), and it allowed people to sue in U.S. courts for human rights violations. What if lawyers in the United States could use it to help the victims’ associations here get some justice for their loved ones?
He reached out to experts in ATS litigation—Paul Hoffman, Judith Chomsky, and Giannini—to see what was feasible.
For Giannini, it felt reminiscent of another long-shot ATS case: Doe v. Unocal, brought by Burmese villagers against the company for human rights abuses related to a gas pipeline project. Back in 1995, when the organization he co-founded, EarthRights International, decided to sue a corporation for human rights violations, the reception was less than enthusiastic.
“People thought we were nuts,” he said.
But Giannini served as co-counsel on that case for a decade, right up until it settled. So when Becker called with the idea of suing the president of Bolivia, he had a receptive audience: this was not a litigator put off by long odds.
March 21, 2018
Earlier this week, Gerald L. Neuman, Co-Director of the Human Rights Program (HRP), and the J. Sinclair Armstrong Professor of International, Foreign, and Comparative Law at Harvard Law School, sat down to discuss HRP’s upcoming conference, “Human Rights in a Time of Populism,” with Natalie McCauley, JD ‘19.
The conference, which is free and open to the public, takes place this Friday afternoon and Saturday all day on Harvard Law School’s campus.
So Professor, to start us out: What is this conference about?
Thank you for asking. We plan to discuss the current rise in populism: What are its causes? What are its effects? What implications does it have for the international human rights system? And how should the international human rights system respond?
We don’t expect the answers to these questions to be the same for every country, and that’s one of the things we’re going to be discussing.
We’ll have more than a dozen leading experts coming from as far away as The Philippines and as near as our own university. There will be specific discussion on the United States, Poland, Southeast Asia, Turkey, and Latin America, as well as cross-cutting themes.
I should clarify what I mean by populism. Political scientists offer different formulations for the notion of populism, as we’ll be discussing. The phenomenon of concern here is a kind of politics that employs an exclusionary notion of the people- the “real people,” as opposed to disfavored groups that are unworthy. Populist leaders then claim to rule on behalf of the “real people,” whose will should not be constrained.
And does this populism affect internationally protected human rights?
We plan to discuss examples of how that happens. But the easy answer is: Yes, it does. Certainly within the country, and it in cases it has implications for other countries as well. If we look internally, often populism then leads to targeting the excluded groups. But it also poses a danger to the majority. Populists deny the legitimacy of the political opposition. They often try to entrench themselves in power and undermine checks. Populism can tip over into authoritarianism.
We’re talking about examples in Poland, Duterte in the Philippines, and of course, President Trump here. Continue Reading…
February 20, 2018
Posted by Susan Farbstein and Tyler Giannini
We’ve got thrilling news today: After more than 10 years of litigation, our case, Mamani et al. v. Sánchez de Lozada and Sánchez Berzaín, is finally headed to trial. This is an historic event. It’s the first time a former head of state will stand trial in the U.S. for human rights abuses.
In less than two weeks, on March 5, the former President and Minister of Defense of Bolivia will stand trial in Federal District Court in Florida for their roles in a 2003 civilian massacre in Bolivia. And our clients will be in the courtroom to see it, and to testify.
We would not be here without the work of our partners, listed below, and dozens of clinical students who have contributed over the years, from fact-finding to drafting briefs to thinking strategically about how to move the case forward. Foremost among those students is Thomas Becker, JD ’08. This case started as a seed of an idea in his mind, and he has been working tirelessly on it ever since.
Most importantly, we want to thank our clients, who have kept their wounds open so this case could move forward on behalf of those they lost, and the many other Bolivians whose lives were irrevocably damaged by the actions of these defendants. They inspire us every day with the extraordinary courage and dedication they have shown at every step of this journey.
Please see below for the press release in English and Spanish.
U.S. Judge Orders Case Against Former Bolivian President for Role in 2003 Massacre to Proceed to Trial
Marks First Time in U.S. History a Former Head of State Will Sit Before Accusers in a Civil Human Rights Trial
February 20, 2018, Miami, FL – A federal judge has ruled that the former president of Bolivia and his minister of defense must face trial in the United States in a civil case alleging that the Bolivian military massacred more than 50 of its own citizens during a period of civil unrest in 2003. This is the first time that a former head of state will sit before his accusers in a civil human rights trial in a U.S. court. Last week, the judge rejected the defendants’ final effort to avoid trial (ruling English and Spanish), denying a motion filed by the former Bolivian president, Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada, and his former defense minister, José Carlos Sánchez Berzaín, both of whom live in the United States. The trial will begin in the federal court in Fort Lauderdale on March 5, 2018.
“The former president and his minister of defense must now listen as we testify about what happened,” said Teófilo Baltazar Cerro, a member of the indigenous Aymara community of Bolivia, which led the protests where the government security forces opened fire. “We look forward to this historic opportunity to have our day in court.”
In Mamani v. Sánchez de Lozada and Sánchez Berzaín, as detailed in the Court’s February 14 order, the families of eight Bolivians killed filed suit against Sánchez de Lozada and Sánchez Berzaín, alleging that they planned the extrajudicial killings. The lawsuit alleges that, months in advance of the violence, the two defendants devised a plan to kill thousands of civilians, and intentionally used deadly force against political protests in an effort to quash political opposition. In addition to the deaths, more than 400 unarmed civilians were shot and injured.
In 2016, a U.S. appeals court held that the plaintiffs could proceed with their claims under the Torture Victim Protection Act (TVPA), which authorizes suits in U.S. federal court for extrajudicial killings. Sánchez de Lozada and Sánchez Berzaín then sought and were denied a review by the U.S. Supreme Court in 2017. After a review of the evidence gathered by both sides, District Court Judge James Cohn ruled on February 14 that the plaintiffs had presented sufficient evidence to proceed to trial.
“The trial will offer indigenous Aymara people, who have historically been excluded from justice, a chance to testify about events that led to dozens of deaths and hundreds of injuries,” said Beth Stephens, an attorney for the Plaintiffs (cooperating through the Center for Constitutional Rights).
The lawsuit alleges claims by nine plaintiffs including: Etelvina Ramos Mamani, whose eight-year-old daughter Marlene was killed in her mother’s bedroom when a single shot was fired through the window; Teofilo Baltazar Cerro, whose pregnant wife Teodosia was killed after a bullet was fired through the wall of a house; Felicidad Rosa Huanca Quispe, whose 69-year-old father Raul was shot and killed along a roadside; and Gonzalo Mamani Aguilar, whose father Arturo was shot and killed while tending his crops.
The family members are represented by a team of lawyers from the Center for Constitutional Rights, Harvard Law School’s International Human Rights Clinic, and the law firms of Akin, Gump, Strauss, Hauer & Feld, LLP, Schonbrun, Seplow, Harris & Hoffman, LLP, and Akerman LLP. Lawyers from the Center for Law, Justice and Society (Dejusticia) are cooperating attorneys.
Chandra Hayslett, CCR, (212) 614-6458, email@example.com
Juez de los EE.UU. Ordena Que El Caso Contra el Ex-Presidente Boliviano Por Su Papel en la Masacre de 2003 Procederá a Juicio
Marca Primera Vez en La Historia de Estados Unidos Que Un Jefe De Estado Será Sometido a Un Juicio de Derechos Humanos Frente a Sus Acusadores
20 de febrero, Miami, Florida, Estados Unidos – Un juez federal de los Estados Unidos ha ordenado que el ex-presidente de Bolivia y su ministro de defensa serán sometidos a juicio en los EE.UU. en un caso civil alegando que el ejército Boliviano masacró a más de 50 de sus propios ciudadanos en un período de disturbios civiles en 2003. Será la primera vez que un ex-jefe de estado se sentará frente a sus acusadores en un juicio civil de derechos humanos en una corte en los Estados Unidos. La semana anterior, el juez rechazó el último esfuerzo de los acusados a evitar el juicio, negando una moción que presentaron Gonzalo Sánchez de Lozada, el ex-presidente de Bolivia, y su ex-ministro de defensa, José Carlos Sánchez Berzaín, los dos cuales viven en los EE.UU. El juicio comenzará en la corte federal en Fort Lauderdale, Florida el 5 de marzo de 2018.
“El ex-presidente y su ministro de defensa ahora tendrán que escuchar mientras testificamos sobre lo que pasó,” dijo Teófilo Baltazar Cerro, un miembro de la comunidad originaria Aymara, la cual dirigió las protestas donde las fuerzas de seguridad del gobierno abrieron fuego. “Esperamos esta oportunidad histórica para tener nuestro día en la corte.”
En el caso Mamani v. Sánchez de Lozada y Sánchez Berzaín, como se describe en la orden de la corte del 14 de febrero, las familias de ocho Bolivianos que fueron asesinados demandaron a Sánchez de Lozada y Sánchez Berzaín, alegando que planificaron las matanzas extrajudiciales. La demanda alega que, meses antes de la violencia, los dos acusados idearon un plan para matar a miles de civiles, e intencionalmente usaron fuerza letal en contra de las protestas políticas para reprimir la oposición política. Encima de las muertes, se disparó a más de 400 civiles desarmados que salieron heridos.
En 2016, una corte de apelación de los Estados Unidos sostuvo que los demandantes pudieron seguir con sus reclamaciones bajo el Acto de Protección para Las Víctimas de Tortura (TVPA por sus siglas en ingles), lo cual autoriza casos en el tribunal federal de Estados Unidos para matanzas extrajudiciales. Sánchez de Lozada y Sánchez Berzaín luego pidieron que la Corte Suprema de Estados Unidos tomara el caso, y fueron negados. Después de revisar la evidencia colectada de los dos lados, el Juez de la Corte del Distrito James Cohn ordenó el 14 de febrero que los demandantes habían presentado suficiente evidencia para seguir al juicio.
“Este juicio ofrecerá al pueblo Aymara, que históricamente ha sido excluida de la justicia, una oportunidad para testificar sobre los eventos que resultaron en docenas de muertes y cientos de heridas,” dijo Beth Stephens, una abogada para los demandantes, cooperando con el Centro de Derechos Constitucionales (Center for Constitutional Rights).
La demanda alega reclamaciones de nueve demandantes incluyendo: Etelvina Ramos Mamani, cuya hija de ocho años Marlene fue asesinada en el dormitorio de su madre cuando una sola bala fue disparado a través de la ventana; Teofilo Baltazar Cerro, cuya esposa embarazada Teodosia fue asesinada cuando se disparó una bala a través de la pared de una casa; Felicidad Rosa Huanca Quispe, cuyo padre de 69 años fue asesinado a tiros al lado de una carretera; y Gonzalo Mamani Aguilar, cuyo padre Arturo fue asesinado a tiros mientras cuidaba sus cultivos.
Los familiares son representados por un equipo de abogados del Centro de Derechos Constitucionales, La Clínica de Derechos Humanos Internacionales de la Facultad de Derecho de Harvard, y los bufetes de abogados Akin, Gump, Strauss, Hauer & Feld, LLP, Schonbrun, Seplow, Harris & Hoffman, LLP, y Akerman LLP. Abogados de la organización Dejusticia son abogados cooperantes.
Chandra Hayslett, CCR, (212) 614-6458, firstname.lastname@example.org
December 20, 2017
The Nobel Peace Prize Celebrations: Recognition and Reinvigoration for Humanitarian Disarmament Advocates
Posted by Bonnie Docherty
On December 10, 2017, at 1 p.m., uniformed musicians on the grand staircase of Oslo City Hall brought their gleaming trumpets to their lips and the audience to its feet. The clarion salute they sounded heralded the arrival of the king and queen of Norway and a new era of nuclear disarmament.
In front of dignitaries, diplomats, and dozens of civil society campaigners, myself included, the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN) received this year’s Nobel Peace Prize.
The award honors ICAN for having “given the efforts to achieve a world without nuclear weapons a new direction and new vigour.” In particular, the prize recognizes the civil society coalition’s “ground-breaking” work to realize a treaty banning nuclear weapons.
More than 70 years after the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the 2017 Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons makes clear that nuclear weapons are illegal as well as immoral and increases the stigma against them. It also shows that real progress in nuclear disarmament is possible.
I had the honor of attending the Nobel ceremony as part of ICAN’s delegation because, along with Clinical Instructor Anna Crowe and a team from the International Human Rights Clinic, I partnered closely with ICAN during last summer’s treaty negotiations. We provided legal advice and successfully lobbied for obligations to address the humanitarian and environmental harm caused by nuclear weapons.
I can best describe my four days in Oslo as magical. In addition to the ceremony, the celebrations included a torchlight parade, a concert in ICAN’s honor, and the opening of a museum exhibition on the coalition. Nobel Peace Prize banners hung from street lamps on the city’s main boulevard, and the lights on a Ferris wheel alternated flashing the Nobel medal and the ICAN logo.
The experience was made all the more meaningful because I shared it with friends from around the world with whom I’ve advocated for humanitarian disarmament for more than 15 years.
The genesis of the nuclear weapon ban treaty exemplifies the power of a humanitarian approach to disarmament. After the 1996 adoption of the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty, there was minimal progress in advancing the law on nuclear weapons; international discussions continued but produced no tangible results.
In 2010, ICAN and other proponents of a new treaty began to reframe nuclear weapons as a humanitarian, rather than national security, issue. Publications from ICAN and its member organizations highlighted the horrific harm caused by use and testing. A resolution from the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement called for using “the framework of humanitarian diplomacy” to work toward a treaty prohibiting nuclear weapons. In 2015, 127 states endorsed the “Humanitarian Pledge,” committing “to promote the protection of civilians against risks stemming from nuclear weapons” and to strive for a world free of nuclear weapons.
This shift in the debate broke the international deadlock. The following year, the UN General Assembly passed a resolution to initiate treaty negotiations, and on July 7, 2017, 122 states adopted a global ban on nuclear weapons. Only one country voted against, and one abstained.
As I explained at a legal seminar held during the Nobel celebrations, the influence of humanitarian disarmament is evident in the treaty’s text as well as the process behind it. The preamble recognizes the overwhelming human and environmental consequences of the weapons, and acknowledges the disproportionate impact on women and girls and indigenous peoples. Continue Reading…
October 26, 2017
Posted by Bonnie Docherty
Although I never met Carl Thorne-Thomsen, I’ve known about him for as long as I can remember.
I distinctly recall driving down the road to my grandparents’ home in Lake Forest, IL, as my mother told me about her close high school friend who had died in Vietnam. Carl had opposed the war, she explained, but he felt it was unjust for him to be sheltered from the draft while others with less privilege were sent to fight in Southeast Asia. In a quiet act of protest, he withdrew from Harvard College during his junior year and was drafted in April 1967. Two months after arriving in Vietnam, and 50 years ago this week, he was killed in combat.
Although I was in elementary school at the time of this conversation, Carl’s decision to live—and die—by his principles made a vivid impression on me. Decades later, having spent most of my career on issues of armed conflict, I still find myself compelled. The 50th anniversary of his death motivated me to track down more information through archives and interviews and to write a Vita for Harvard Magazine’s September/October issue.
Carl’s story demonstrates the power of an individual to have a lasting impact. Virtually everyone I interviewed used the word “special” to describe him. Crew teammates and fellow soldiers alike cited the strength of character Carl showed in standing up against the inequity of the draft. On the battlefield, his bravery as a radio operator saved lives. Several Harvard classmates said they had sought out Carl’s name on the Vietnam Wall, and for decades, his commanding officer carried with him a letter Carl’s mother sent after she received the news of his death. An unexpected reward of doing my story was to share with his still grieving family how others remembered him.
My own admiration for Carl has only grown as I have done more research and talked with people who knew him personally. He made sacrifices for his principles yet did so in private way. Many of his classmates and comrades-in-arms did not know until recently how a Harvard student ended up as an enlisted man in Vietnam. Carl hated injustice, and whether on campus or in a combat zone, he treated everyone with the same respect. In the end, he left a legacy of courage and character that remains an inspiration.
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